Love, Lust, and CCTVs
by Roxxie Johnson
Summary: Mycroft finally gathers up the courage to ask DI Lestrade on a proper date. But can Mycroft make this work, or will it crumble under his fingers and slip away? Smut on chapter 5! fluff, occasional angst, and depending on reviews, quite a few lemons
1. Watching

**Hey! So, this is my first fanfic ever! Please, tell me what I can improve, and tell me if you like it! I am open to criticism, but don't be an ass. Smut is promised, and I never hold back ;)**

** -Roxxie**

**P.S. Smut starts on Chapter 5!**

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Watching. That's all Mycroft was doing, he told himself. Watching and protecting Sherlock. So what if it wasn't Sherlock he was watching, but instead Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade? The man was close to Sherlock, and it might be helpful to observe him as well. So what if the man was… well… absolutely drop-dead gorgeous? So what if Mycroft had been harboring secret feelings for him since he first laid eyes on the DI? That shouldn't get in the way of his job, right?

The truth was, Mycroft had never really dealt with these sort of feelings before. He had noted attractiveness in many people before, but never to the point where it was distracting him from work. And DI Lestrade was _nothing_ if not distracting. The last time Mycroft Holmes had felt this way about another human being was in his college years, and suffice to say that had ended quite horribly. Ever since then, Mycroft hadn't allowed himself permission to look at another person in that way. Then, all of a sudden, Lestrade had just waltzed into his CCTV feed and his life, and now Mycroft couldn't enjoy a single cup of expensive tea at his ridiculously large desk without checking on his beloved Detective Inspector.

A quick knocking on his door distracted him from his thoughts and monitors, and he called out a quick 'Enter!' whilst closing his laptops and turning to face the front of his office.

"Anthea, what is it? I'm a bit busy." He hated himself for how his voice sounded curt and rude, but he couldn't be bothered to apologize. If there was one thing above Mycroft, it was apologizing.

"You're not and we both know that, sir. You should ask him to dinner." She honestly didn't surprise him as much as he wanted her to. She often snooped in to his barely existent personal life, but he secretly liked it. She was a strong and feisty woman who most would not want as their assistent, but he knew those qualities came to his advantage when they was needed most

"Preposterous. He doesn't know me in that way and would find it quite out of place if I were to do so."

"Then the next time you meet up with him to talk about Sherlock, which I know you do on an almost monthly basis, you should make it more personal than business. Ask him about himself; get him to open up. I'm sure you have enough people skills to manage that, sir." She left quickly to avoid his inevitable response, and he was left thinking. How much could it hurt to shift their meeting slightly to the more personal side?

He let those thoughts stew in his head as he finished his cup of tea and checked once more on his feeds before picking up his phone. He had a meeting to schedule.


	2. Getting There

**This one will be longer. Reviews, please! Even if it's just a quick 'hey there!' it would still let me know someone is reading :P (but more details are  
appreciated). Tell me where you want this story to go, and you'll likely get what you want :) -roxxie**

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"So, what case do you want to know about first?" Sitting across from Mycroft at their usual diner was DI Lestrade. Mycroft had called him yesterday, and now they were where they always sat. Often the DI wondered why Mycroft had chosen this diner. Upon closer inspection, one could see it did not have any cameras or surveillance devices, and it was always at least partially empty. Like always, when Lestrade had arrived, a cup of tea was sitting in front of Mycroft. This time, however, a pint was sitting in front of his usual seat. Lestrade always ordered the same thing, so it wasn't a stretch to imagine that the highly skilled government official had deduced what he would be drinking. It was a change in the pattern, nonetheless.

They always ate at exactly the same diner. In the beginning Mycroft would 'kidnap' him in a black SUV and take him to an undisclosed location where his blindfold would be removed just long enough to answer the surprisingly intimidating man's queries. Then the blindfold was back on and back into the car he went. After a while the SUVs would take him to the diner instead. There Mycroft would be waiting, looking less intimidating but still a tad menacing. After a long time, they came to the more amicable agreement that Mycroft would call the DI to schedule a time to meet up. Needless to say, after such rough beginnings, their relationship had progressed quite well.

Gregory cautiously sat down and sipped at his beer. They talked about cases, as always, but Mycroft seemed more distant than usual. After their brief meeting, when he sat up to leave, Mycroft casually, quietly, almost timidly said, "Do you want to stay?"

"What?" Greg's question was equal parts 'What?' and 'Why?'

"You haven't eaten today, judging by the lack of stains on your clothes and the fact your breath still smells of your mint toothpaste. You already have bags under your eyes, and it's not yet two in the afternoon. You were probably woken up for a murder, did not have breakfast, and have been working on paperwork all day. Therefore, I was wondering if you'd like to stay and have something to eat before returning to your office and continuing with what will surely be a day full of paper cuts and being pestered by my younger brother."

"Wow." Lestrade was completely wonderstruck. "I had no clue you could do that! I thought it was just Sherlock. It must be a family thing. Crikey, that was impressive." As he spoke, Greg sat back down to face the slightly blushing Mr. Holmes. "Actually, I'd love some food. I'm starved."

Mycroft could barely hide the spark of hope and relief that crossed his face. He had briefly feared his instinctual deductions would surprise or anger the DI, but he was used to it from Sherlock.

They picked up menus and quickly scanned them. Neither of them were capable of reading anything, choosing to steal glances at one another instead. Mycroft was dying to know if Greg had thought it too forward of him to ask Greg to stay, and the detective was curious about the man across the table in the meticulous three piece suit.

When the waitress came to take their orders, mildly surprised the two regulars were finally eating for a change, Gregory randomly picked the first thing his eyes had landed on. _Roast beef sandwich it is_, he thought with a mental shrug.

Mycroft ordered a small salad. He was glad he could order food around Detective Inspector Lestrade without having his diets questioned. They ate in an awkward silence, trying as much as possible to not look at each other throughout the meal. After a while, the curiosity was too much for Greg to handle, and he looked up.

"So, what is it exactly that you do, Mycroft?"

Mycroft looked up from his particularly disgusting salad and suppressed a small sigh. It was so hard to pinpoint exactly _what_ he did for a living, especially because he couldn't actually tell anyone about the more sensitive parts of his job. "I… occupy a minor position in the British government," he responded quickly.

"Yes, you've said that before, but what does it_ mean_?" Greg asked with passion. He was honestly curious, Mycroft noted with glee. Gregory really cared.

"Isn't it a lovely day today," he said. The subject change was obvious and clear.

"Oh, I see. You can't tell me. It's all right, I understand. So tell me something about yourself, anything. What team do you cheer for?" Although Mycroft was intensely relieved as to not being further questioned about his job, he was dismayed at the fact he had almost nothing in common with the DI. He wasn't even sure what sport Gregory was talking about.

Their conversation was stiff and slightly awkward through the rest of the meal, but they both tried their hardest to keep it up. They went through every subject, from politics to the weather, and at the end of the meal had settled on places they'd both been to (which was also a hard subject to speak to, seeing as a lot of places Mycroft had been to he couldn't reveal).

The waitress stopped by with the check, and both men immediately reached for their wallets.

"Please, Detective Inspector, let me pay." The way Mycroft said his title sent shivers down Gregory's back, but he tried his hardest to ignore the troubling feeling.

"Nonsense! You always pay for my beers."

"That's because I invited you." With an impossibly quick hand maneuver, Mycroft whipped out his credit card before Greg could even properly open his wallet.

"Really, Detective Inspector, it's my treat."

Lestrade sighed. "Alright, but you can at least call me 'Greg.' You make me sound like a character from an old novel." Mycroft laughed a mostly fake laugh, but it made Greg smile nonetheless.

"If you insist, Gregory." Nope, the change in name had done nothing to stop the inexplicable shivers dancing up and down the DI's spine.


	3. The Question

** Here's my next chapter, folks. Tell me what you think! All review are welcome, even negative ones! Smut in either the next chapter or the one after that. Then the story really takes off. More awkward/nervous Mycroft to come :P **

** And thanks to everyone who had reviewed my story so far! I absolutely loved hearing from all of you 3 You guys are the best! Cheers! ~ roxxie ;)**

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All the other meetings from then on were very similar. They discussed cases and Sherlock, ate a meal, and tried to think of things to talk about. Mostly it settled on how annoying Sherlock was, with Greg telling stories about what he said on cases and Mycroft telling stories about their childhood. Mycroft even got Greg to open up about his childhood, and they weren't surprised to find they had almost nothing in common there, either. Mycroft and Sherlock grew up in a mansion, with a distant mother and a father who had drunk himself to death when Mycroft was fifteen. Greg grew up as the oldest of four boys, and lived in a small suburban house. The one thing they did have in common on that front was that both their fathers had been alcoholics. The difference was that Mr. Lestrade had been able to get clean, and was now a very respectable man. Mycroft tried not to feel little pangs of jealousy at hearing that.

Greg was still shocked at the feelings he was suddenly having over Mycroft. When they accidentally brushed past each other or made eye contact he would feel the strangest of sensations in his stomach. It wasn't that he was unfamiliar with these feelings, he just didn't want to face them yet. But he was nothing if not brave, so one quiet day at the office he let his mind wander. There was really no way around it. Greg had found himself attracted to Mycroft Holmes. How had this happened? He had had a brief period in high school where he experimented with guys, but it didn't last. He just hadn't felt the attraction towards the male species he felt with women. Their soft skin, their big eyes, their curves. What he had originally found himself in love with he barely noticed anymore.

When had this happened? Right under his own nose, Greg had turned… gay? That couldn't be it, could it? He had no prejudice against homosexuality, but he hadn't though he would go down that road again. After what he had felt in high school, or rather what he _hadn't _felt, he never thought he would try again with men. But now here he was, getting excited thinking about Mycroft's soft ginger hair and perfectly fitted suits and amazingly posh behavior. Oh, and that _voice!_ He could fall asleep to Mycroft's soft murmurs. The sounds he made when he ate something he enjoyed, like his most recent order of half a chicken sandwich, were absolutely heavenly. _Snap yourself out of it, Greg! The last thing you need is to get turned on at the office, especially since he's _not even here! Greg realized with a start that he really did fancy Mycroft, so much so that he was anxiously looking forward to their next increasingly casual meeting.

Well, there was only one thing for Greg to do. He wanted desperately to move this relationship along, he noted, so he would have to ask Mycroft on a proper date. The thought scared Greg more than a little. It was, after all, Mycroft _bloody_ Holmes. The man could probably have him killed with a snap of the fingers. That really shouldn't turn him on, but it did a bit.

Greg had no clue whether or not Mycroft liked him. He didn't even know if Mycroft was gay! But if there was one thing he hated, that was to over think things. He hadn't had sex since he left his wife six months ago, and it had been a while before that, too. After a lot of experience before getting married, he knew over thinking things could never get anyone anywhere good.

That and his sexual frustration were two of the many things that pushed him to finally ask Mycroft out after one of their meetings. Mycroft had finally begun to feel comfortable around Gregory, enough so that instead of his usual salad or half-sandwich (of which he never ate the bread) he ordered a plate of greasy scrambled eggs and bacon. He rarely broke his diet rules, but when he was around Gregory he felt like it didn't matter.

"Mycroft… I've been thinking…" Greg started uneasily. _It's easy to not over think things until you are about to do them_, he thought He took a steadying breath and spoke. "Would you like to have dinner with me tomorrow night?"

Mycroft was stunned to silence, something that never happened to the normally composed man. He had been watching Gregory, as always, and had been almost content with just that. He didn't have the courage or audacity to ask Gregory out, and he hadn't noticed that Gregory himself did. He hadn't even noticed the other man had feelings for him. A small part of his mind chastised him for looking and not seeing, while the rest of it was busy freaking out.

"Mycroft? ...Are you okay?" Greg's question brought Mycroft out of his silent trance.

"Yes! I mean, yes. I would love to go on a date with you. That would be very… um… that is to say, it would be very nice." Poor Mycroft tripped over his words before finally regaining his composure. He was used to being threatened, disrespected, and occasionally assaulted. He was not, however, used to being asked on dates by very attractive men.

At the sight of Mycroft so obviously flustered, Greg broke in to a wide grin that stretched ear to ear. At the sound of a hitch in the other man's breath, the grin only got wider.

"Great! Where should we go? I haven't been out to eat in a while; are there any new restaurants I should know about?"

Mycroft, desperate to hide how much he was affected by the DI's proposition, answered calmly. "There is a new Japanese restaurant I've heard is doing very well."

"Wonderful! Should we meet there at eight?"

Mycroft smiled. "I can have a car pick you up."

"That's perfect. Thank you. For saying yes, too. I'm glad you did," Greg hammered out a bit hastily.

"I'm glad I did as well."


	4. The Date

Mycroft stood in front of his full-length mirror faced with an unfamiliar sight. The Mycroft he saw in front of him and the Mycroft he knew were two completely different people. He was used to obscenely expensive three-piece suits and shiny shoes. He could even handle the occasional hospital gown, for his job was not always a safe one. He was not, however, used to tight navy blue jumpers and even tighter jeans. Anthea had bought him his clothes, as always, and given them to him on his way out of the office. Just how she had known he had a date that night was a mystery he'd rather not know the answer to.

As he stared at himself in the mirror, his horror slowly fading, he was secretly glad his brilliant assistant had done this for him. Although he didn't love the clothes, he would rather feel ridiculous than look ridiculous tonight. He reminded himself of just how much Anthea deserved a raise.

He called for his car and left his flat soon afterwards. His policy was to always be early rather than late, and this was no different. Gregory arrived soon afterwards at the restaurant, looking around with wide eyes. He was glad to notice Gregory was wearing similar attire, although the clothes looked a million time better on Greg than himself, Mycroft though.

Greg made his way to the table and sat across from Mycroft. '_The man looks stunning, even when he's dressed casually. Scratch that, especially when he's dressed casually. Wish I could look like that…_.'

"Hi, Mycroft," he said shyly. '_Hi? What is wrong with you, Greg?' _he thought.

"Hello, Gregory. I'm glad you're here. You look stunning, as always." Mycroft berated himself for being too forward, but Gregory smiled widely.

"What are you on about? You're the one who's always gorgeous." Greg started a bit as he realized what he had just said, then calmed again as the man across from him blushed. It really was a beautiful color on him, one that brought out the blue in his eyes.

The men ordered a platter of sushi and things of the sort, and ate while enjoying nice conversation. It wasn't nearly as awkward as either men thought it would be, and they were relieved. Greg tried as hard as he could to not over think what he was saying. Mycroft tried not to be too closed off and cold as he knew he could be. At the end of the meal (and after quiet a few glasses of wine on either side) they were laughing openly and were completely relaxed.

"… and he cocked an eyebrow and said, 'What a sight! Now where should I put these blinds?'" Mycroft burst out with giggles covered by the palm of his hand at the punchline to Gregory's joke. Greg though it was endlessly adorable. Throughout the date they had shared jokes which increased in smuttiness as the meal went along. Greg knew quiet a few nasty jokes from his time in the Academy and Mycroft mostly listened and laughed. A few glasses of wine ago he would have looked at the older man disdainfully. That, however, was a few glasses of wine ago.

Mycroft paid the bill again and Gregory still felt the need to put up a fight, even if he had already seen it coming. It was an endearing quality, Mycroft noticed, that Gregory refused to come quietly. Suddenly Mycroft's brain was filled with entirely inappropriate images stemmed from that phrase. This wasn't something that happened often as he wasn't a vulgar person in nature, but thinking of Greg not coming quietly was slowly turning his face purple with repressed giggles.

"What are you thinking of?" asked Gregory suspiciously.

Thinking it was hardly appropriate to tell him, Mycroft settled with the classic, "Nothing…" Gregory chuckled at that.

Soon they both found themselves outside, a large black SUV parked in the street. They both got in, and Mycroft tapped the dividing glass twice. Then they were off, probably headed to Greg's place. The car ride was very interesting. They sat on opposite ends of the seat but slowly inched closer and closer whenever they though they could do it subtly. Although they barely spoke, their silence wasn't awkward and their minute touches spoke louder than anything they could say.

Mycroft was completely unused to these sort of situations. Was he supposed to make chit chat? Sit quietly? All he knew was that he desperately wanted to kiss Gregory, to touch his skin and feel his heartbeat. These were desires the minor government official would never normally express to himself, but he had had far too much to drink and the alcohol was viciously taking effect. He slowly crawled his hand across the leather seat to casually brush against Gregory's, feeling very unsure about himself but daring nonetheless.

Greg was slowly going crazy, a bit more intoxicated than his partner. He was openly staring at Mycroft now, reveling in how glorious he looked with a bit of moonlight shining in his hair. His skin looked even paler; his hair less vibrant but still beautiful. Truthfully, Greg had been a little scared at the thought of being with a man, of not actually wanting Mycroft. Now all of that was gone. Because damn it all if Mycroft Holmes was not the most wonderful sight Greg had ever seen. As Mycroft's hand _accidentally_ brushed his, he grabbed those long, almost spindly, pale fingers with his own rough, calloused ones.

They intertwined fingers and Mycroft finally stopped looking out the window and met Gregory's gaze. When his blue eyes met the other man's soft brown ones, he felt a violent spark, like what they talk about in movies. He had never thought of himself as a romantic, passionate man. In fact, he was really truly lazy when it came down to it. But now, he wanted to be everything Gregory ever wanted - ever_ needed _in his life.

At the surprising and overwhelming flood of emotions, Mycroft leaned forward. Then Greg leaned forwards. As the car drove along the deserted roads, bathed in moonlight, Gregory and Mycroft's lips met. The kiss was tender and careful at first, both parties not wanting to go to quickly and scare each other off. Mycroft's lips were heavenly soft against the detective's, and he was trying his hardest not to attack Gregory with his mouth. Greg didn't hold back, however, and soon both men were panting and clutching at clothes and pulling at hair. When the stopped to catch their breath, the lust in their eyes was apparent.

A different night, a little less wine, different company might have driven these two men to be more sensible. But when they arrived at Greg's apartment he invited Mycroft in between lusty kisses. And Mycroft certainly didn't say no.


	5. Finally

**Alright, here it is! I know you've all been waiting desperately for this chapter, and I have complied.**

**For those of you only reading for the smutty bits, what has happened so far: Mycroft and Greg meet to discuss Sherlock, Greg asks him on a date, it goes well, they kiss in the car, Greg invites Mycroft in. Mycroft has been adorably nervous throughout. I highly suggest reading the other chapters, but that is only because I want more readers.**

**For those of you who have waited, my many thanks! There will be more to come. Reviews are, as always, the best thing a writer can ask for. Thanks a million to those who have already reviewed. You have all made my day. Without further ado, on with the reading! Cheers! ~roxxie**

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Somehow Gregory and Mycroft went from standing outside to laying on Greg's couch making out. Looking back, neither men could say how it happened. It just did.

"Mycroft…" Greg moaned slowly, letting the name slip off his lips. It felt so right to be here, doing this with Mycroft. Greg was incredibly glad he'd not over thought things. Then all thoughts slipped away when their hips ground together, rubbing their clothed erections against each other. The friction was amazing and Greg wondered vaguely why he'd given up on men.

Mycroft was beyond thoughts. He was enjoying himself immensely, and didn't want it to ever stop. He was also nervous about it not stopping. Mycroft wasn't technically a virgin, but the first time (and last time) he'd had sex had not gone well. Mycroft had been in college, pining after a boy in his class. Ian. He had been gorgeous, popular, athletic… Mycroft was in deep. Ian didn't even know he existed, of course. Then, one night at a dorm party Mycroft had unwittingly been dragged to, they finally met. Ian had been drunk, and come after Mycroft.

_"Hello gorgeous. My name's Ian. Don't we have a class together or something?"_

_ "Uh… um… hi! Yes, we do have a class together. Two actually. My name's Mycroft Holmes. Call me Mycroft. That's stupid, of course you'd call me Mycroft. I mean, um… hi?" _Mycroft could barely get a breathy word out without stuttering, in awe that he was actually talking to the most handsome man he'd ever met (in his defense, he was only sixteen). Luckily for him he didn't have to do much talking. Ian was very chatty and the alcohol didn't help. Thirty minutes later he was dragging poor Mycroft to his room. Young, timid, shy Mycroft who'd never even had a boyfriend. And that night he'd given himself up to Ian, an older boy he barely knew. It had hurt, it had ached, and he'd told himself that was how it was supposed to go. He had been too lovestruck to say anything in protest, to ask Ian to stop. Ian didn't.

The next morning Mycroft had woken up broken and alone in Ian's room. The next time he heard from him was three days later. He tried to talk to Ian, tried to ask him if it meant anything, but he ignored him or rudely brushed him off.

"_I don't know what you're talking about, Holmes. Nothing happened. I'm straight, for Christ's sake! Run off, you lonely poof."_

After that horrible rejection, Mycroft swore to himself he would never try again. He cried himself to sleep night after night, and swore he'd never have sex, never even look at anyone like that. In many ways, it was the last straw for him. After that he became cold and distant; the Iceman.

Now he was lying here, with Gregory Lestrade, and he had no clue what to do. He felt hopeless and scared, like he had that night, and he didn't know what to say. Luckily for him Greg picked up on his reluctance and spoke up.

"Mycroft, what's wrong? Are we moving too fast? We can stop, if you'd like." It was the last thing Greg wanted himself, but he could sense Mycroft tensing up.

"I'm fine," he said roughly.

"Mycroft, I know you're not. ...just tell me about it." Greg could tell he was needed.

"It's just… I… I mean… I'm not a-a virgin or anything… I g-guess I just…." Mycroft was finding it harder and harder to speak, his throat closing up. Gregory would leave him. He'd leave him just like Ian left him.

"Mycroft? How many times have you had sex?" asked Greg, picking up on the problem immediately. He wasn't a DI for no reason, after all.

Mycroft looked down as his face turned redder than his hair. "O-once," he barely whispered. "It didn't go well," he added.

"Oh, Mycroft, its okay. It's okay, I'm not going to force you or anything. It's okay. I swear." Usually Greg wasn't this caring or thoughtful. It must be the alcohol, he told himself.

Mycroft looked up at Gregory's soft brown eyes, filled with nothing but the truth. Well, the truth and a healthy dose of arousal.

"We can stop, if you'd like. I won't think any less of you." It was at that moment that Mycroft knew he'd found the perfect man for him. Something deep inside him clicked and he lunged back forcefully, capturing Gregory's lips in a searing kiss.

Greg, very confused at everything that had just went down, made the wise decision of going with the flow. Now they were back to kissing sloppily and rubbing together. Slowly, almost reverently, Greg reached down and found the edge of Mycroft's jumper. His hand crawled underneath the jumper and softly caressed the skin of Mycroft's stomach, feeling the downy hair there. Mycroft's breath hitched at the gentle touch. He was feeling such wonderful feelings, feelings he was completely unfamiliar with. Now Gregory's hands moved to take his jumper off, and he let him. Quickly, he unbuttoned Gregory's shirt and pulled it off as well.

Greg started planting kisses down Mycroft's jaw and neck, nipping at the skin there. He knew he probably shouldn't mark the government official, but he couldn't help himself. He bit down hard on a spot just above Mycroft's collar bone and the man gasped. Greg licked at the spot he'd just been biting, Mycroft now moaning and wrapping his hands in Greg's hair. He continued to move down, kissing at the other man's chest before he reached his nipples. He softly bit one and smiled as Mycroft gasped and writhed under his touch.

"Oh, Gregory…" he moaned. Greg moved to the next one and did the same. Mycroft continued moaning wantonly beneath him.

He quickly undid Mycroft's fly and yanked his trouser down below his knees. Mycroft threw them off and Gregory did the same.

"Should we take this to the bedroom?" asked Greg. He knew it was a cheesy line, but he had nothing else to say and was too worked up to care. They got up and he lead Mycroft through the hallway to his bedroom. It was small, but he had a big bed and windows which were casting moonlight into the room. He pushed Mycroft on the bed and started nuzzling his belly, just under his bellybutton. He slowly pushed Mycroft's pants down to free his erection. He was impressed.

"Christ… Mycroft, you're massive!" Mycroft chuckled lightly under his breath. He was used to people being amazed at him, although never in this situation. Still, it was a comforting thought.

Greg leaned down slowly and kissed the head of his cock, licking the pre-come off. He heard Mycroft whimper, but he didn't say anything so Greg continued. He took Mycroft in his mouth all at once, making the other man groan in sheer pleasure. Greg hollowed out his cheeks and sucked, running his tongue along the underside of Mycroft's long cock. He had never done this before, but he'd gotten more than his fair share of blow jobs and tried to copy what had been done to him.

Mycroft was trying his hardest to stay still and not start thrusting wildly into Gregory's hot wet mouth. Why hadn't he done more of this? All the reasons he had for not having sex seemed miles away. His hands wound themselves in Gregory's soft salt-and-pepper hair and stayed there. Soon he felt a coiling in his gut and tugged Greg's hair sharply, bringing his head up.

"No! I don't want it to end like this. ...I want to do this right." Greg understood immediately and moved up to kiss Mycroft deeply. He reached over to his bedside table and pulled out a bottle of lube. He'd gotten it, along with some butt plugs and a Clay Aiken CD, as a gag gift from the guys at the Yard. If only they knew he was really going to use this on Sherlock's brother…

As Mycroft lay back, his head propped up on some pillows so he could watch, Greg drizzled some lube onto his fingers. He circled one around Mycroft's tight pink entrance, making both men shiver with pleasure. He looked up and met Mycroft's eyes. He nodded, giving him permission, and Greg slowly pushed his finger into Mycroft.

Mycroft's breathing suddenly grew ragged and he moaned softly. Greg kept going until his finger was all the way in. Then he gently pulled out and pushed back in, fucking Mycroft on his finger. Mycroft kept up a steady stream of groaning, interrupted by the occasional _'please!'_ but Greg didn't speed up. He wanted Mycroft to be properly stretched so it wouldn't hurt. He had never had sex with a man, but he'd watched a lot of porn when he was younger. He remembered it clearly, rubbing himself while watching two muscled men going at it. Now he got to relive the fantasy with himself in it.

When he felt Mycroft was ready, he eased in another finger. Mycroft's groans increased in volume and he started rocking back and forth, wanting more contact. When Greg crooked his fingers Mycroft's shout probably woke up all the neighbors. Neither of them cared. He had hit Mycroft's prostate, and now Mycroft was really rocking back and forth.

"Please, Gregory… please!" Greg couldn't take it anymore. He pulled his fingers out, earning himself a whimper from Mycroft. Quickly he slathered his cock in lube and placed the head at Mycroft's entrance. Mycroft instinctively wrapped his legs around Gregory's waist. He felt a moment of uneasiness, and looked up to Mycroft.

His face was one of the most beautiful things Greg had ever seen. Mycroft's cheeks were tinted a light pink color, his hair completely disheveled, and his pupils were completely blown. He looked miles away from the minor British government official who always wore a three piece suit and was alway, _always _in control. And that was the moment Greg knew he'd found the perfect man for him.

"_Please!_" Mycroft moaned quietly, and Greg pushed in. The tight, wet heat was almost too much to bare and Greg stopped moving entirely. Partly to let Mycroft adjust and partly to stop himself from coming too soon. This was nothing like having sex with a woman. He shifted his weight and leaned down to kiss Mycroft, their lips molding together perfectly. After a minute of soft sweet kisses, Mycroft couldn't stand it anymore. He again started rocking, feeling Gregory fill him entirely. It was an exquisite feeling that he never wanted to lose. It hadn't been like that with Ian. Ian had been rough, painful. Gregory was careful and good.

Greg started thrusting, slowly at first. They settled into a torturously slow pace, both men wanting it to go faster but not wanting it to end. Mycroft met him thrust for thrust, his hips leaving the bed as he pushed Gregory deeper into himself. As they moved together they continued to kiss, their passion growing and their pace increasing.

Finally Greg couldn't stand going that slow. He started thrusting harder and Mycroft let out an animalistic sound.

"Yes, please! Moremoremoremoremore!" Gregory found that sweet spot within Mycroft, and now both men were seeing stars behind their eyes. Greg knew he wouldn't last long like this, so he wrapped his hand around Mycroft's cock and started tugging, his thumb running over the head and using his pre-come as a lubricant.

Greg's hand and his lips and his cock were all working together to bring Mycroft to climax. He was in such bliss, all thought were completely gone. Usually there was always an annoying buzz of deductions and ideas and plans running through the back of Mycroft's brain, but now everything was silent. Mycroft had always needed to control everything, but giving himself up to Gregory came so easily to him. He found he trusted the man more than anyone else.

Mycroft writhed violently as Greg's thumb dipped into his slit. "Gregory.. I'm- oh God! I… I'm gonna…" He couldn't get the words out as he came hard into Gregory's hand.

Greg felt Mycroft tighten around his cock and his vision went white as he climaxed, emptying himself deep into Mycroft. He could feel Gregory come inside him which just intensified his own orgasm.

They both came down from their highs and laid together, falling asleep in a post-orgasmic haze.

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**This may be the last chapter I publish for this story. If you want to continue reading (and there will be more smut) or thought it was good and others might want to read it, just send me a friendly review and/or favorite the story. Its really easy, I swear! Thank you all! Cheers ;)**


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